Of Fangs, and Wings, and Demonic Things
by Crimson Axel
Summary: Squalo is the leader of the Varia Clan, a clan of vampires. That is, until Xanxus of the Vongola, a clan of werewolves, destroys his entire world. -- Halloween AU Fic. YAOI - Intended XS, 8059, and others in later chapters - Possible mpreg.
1. Blood Bath

_One, two, Squalo's coming for you…_

_Three, four, better lock your door…_

_Five, six, grab your crucifix…_

_Seven, eight, it's not too late…_

_Nine, ten, you'll never live again…_

"What kind of fucking gay song is that?!" the silver haired beauty snapped, swinging his head towards the blonde male before him so viciously that his waist-length hair swung around him in a threatening manner. Truth be told, he'd never heard something more offensive. He was a vampire—not Freddy Kruegar, a fucking fantasy nightmare. "Belphegor, I swear, if you keep spitting up stupid shit like that, I'll—"

"Don't get so defensive, Squalo~! The prince was merely showing off his creativity, ushishishi."

Resisting the urge to grab a handful of those silky golden strands and slam the man's pale head into the nearest wall, Squalo ignored the familiar idiotic laugh and turned away from his underling, instead facing the ceiling high window that exposed the nearly full moon over the Varia manor's surrounding forest. It bathed the treetops with a silver lighting, one that Squalo was used to, and reflected its eerie glow over the large pool of water extending at least a mile in the opposite direction seven stories below his feet. He could easily lose himself in thought while staring out into the midnight sky, daydreaming of a time where he could have the warm touch of the sun's rays against his pale skin without burning himself to near extinction.

In the distance, a single howl echoed and increased in volume when several other voices joined the warning call.

Belphegor rose, frowning as Squalo stood rigid in alertness. "What the hell is that?" the leader snapped to his right hand, though he never tore his gaze away from the shadows of the night on the other side of the manor's glass.

"Fran said many of the others were finding wolf prints on the trails around the manor. The prince told you that, remember?" The blonde's voice had reduced to a dull whisper, not that Squalo couldn't hear with his intensive senses, but he did so as if someone were trying to listen in. Squalo eventually turned slightly to glance at the other, glaring in confusion.

"What's your point? If those howls came from a pack of mere wolves, it wouldn't matter to us anyway. That species has blood that poisons our kind. It's useless to hunt them."

Belphegor shifted uncomfortably, realizing his mistake in the lack of communication with his boss. "They aren't mere wolf tracks. Fran said he thinks a werewolf pack is passing through, but that was several nights ago. The prince told you this, didn't he?" This wasn't the normal nonchalant blonde prince that Squalo had grown to loathe. He actually sounded nervous.

"You must not have, idiot! I would have been more careful!" the now angry leader pushed past Belphegor, purposely bumping his shoulder into the younger vampire to knock the other slightly back. Temper rising, he yanked open the door to his private office so hard that it slammed into the wall of the hallway, most likely creating a divot in the once elegant crème and eggplant wallpaper. "Where the hell is Fran?!" he demanded, spotting a lowly vampire cowering in the hallway from his wrath. "Did you not hear me? Find Fran! Bring him to me at once!" Without a second thought, the young vampire fled, and Belphegor slowly approached, but kept his distance at least twenty feet.

Squalo refused to even look at him. Instead, he swept down the corridor, headed east, searching for someone else to aid in the retrieval of Fran, his trusted advisor. The only reason Belphegor was with him instead of Fran was because his advisor was always off leading a gang of vampires into nearby towns to acquire food—or blood, rather. Vampires could eat food to sustain themselves for a short period of time, but after a while they begin to go mad from bloodlust. In order to maintain sanity amongst his clan, it was his job to make sure his most trusted peon found blood for them to live off of.

He rounded the hallway in frustration when he heard the sound of a window cracking. Glancing behind him in alarm, he found nothing, but instead grew confused when the sound of cracking shifted to the shattering of glass. "Belphegor!" he yelled, flitting down the hallway in a speed only a nonhuman could perform. His blonde underling was no longer standing in the doorway, or in his office, or anywhere to be on the floor, as much as the leader frantically searched. "Fuck..," he cursed under his breath, silver hair dancing wildly behind him as he sprinted into his office and found most of the glass to have shattered on the carpet.

When it registered to him that the scent of blood was overpowering and that something must have crashed _inwards_ to cause the glass to be on the floor, it seemed too late. Extremely warm arms encircled him from behind, trapping him in a grip that would crush human bones. Thankfully, however, Squalo wasn't human. And he wasn't the leader of the Varia Vampires merely for looks. He pushed his feet up against the large oak desk where he sat most nights and pushed himself into his captor, which loosened the hold of those warm arms. Squalo's strength allowed him to force his upper arms into the inside of his captor's and when they hit the bookcase several paces behind them, he got loose.

Snapping around, the Varia leader bore his fangs at the intruder, a tall, tan man dressed in black with a silver piercing connected by a chain to his ear. A low, dangerous hiss admitted in the back of the vampire's throat. He knew immediately that it was a werewolf, not by the looks—no, because werewolves only actually looked like large wolves during a full moon, and seemed like large humans with canines and heat radiation problems during normal hours—but by the disgusting stench of sweat and rotting blood that he'd only ever experienced once in his four hundred years of life after death.

"You fucking fleabag!" he screeched, hissing once more as he paced side to side while the werewolf glowered at him threateningly. "I'll gut you like the pathetic dog you are, and leave your head on a spike for your leader to see when he even dares to think of invading my home!"

The Varia leader was slightly taken aback by the erupts of laughter coming from his foe, but stood all the more alert.

"You think our great leader would send only me to attack your home? No, as we speak, your famiglia is falling one by one into their long-needed deaths, and the cowards who fear the ends of their parasitic lives are being captured for our pleasure," the man slurred, his thick French accent making Squalo bristle all the more.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Squalo launched himself hastily at his enemy, clashing into him with such a force that knocked them into the bookcase even harder, this time staggering the frame of the tall wooden book holder until it began to collapse over them when they struggled against each other away from it. It crashed only into the back of the werewolf, but in the force of its blow and Squalo's close vicinity to the creature, was sent backwards. He slowed himself in a crouch and glared down at the werewolf as it attempted to regain itself. He wouldn't give it the chance.

The master who had turned him had instructed him on how to kill a werewolf, since the two races were immortal rivals. Sever the head, he'd said. Ironically, that was also how a vampire could be killed—a stake to the heart merely felt slightly uncomfortable and garlic only smelled disgusting because of their intensified sense of smell.

Before the wolf could rise, Squalo reached him, gripping the sides of his head and preparing to twist with all his might until the spine gave way and the flesh would rip. But his attention was altered when he felt a familiar presence, and stared up at Belphegor in the doorway, looking perplexed and on guard. The blonde quickly sprinted over, and from what Squalo could tell, was looking to help his leader in any way possible.

"The mansion is under attack!" Squalo snapped, yanking on the head of the howling werewolf. Belphegor reached him, but instead of helping to end the life of creature beneath him, took him by surprise and bit into the side of his neck, hard. Squalo instantly felt the poison of a vampire's bite enter his jugular, but instead of dying instantly as most other races would, became feint instead and fell backwards, momentarily stunned by Belphegor's betrayal before blacking out.

Belphegor stood over his former leader's body and growled to himself, glaring at the relieved werewolf from behind his golden bangs as the man got to his feet. "You were supposed to kill him, not the other way around!" he snapped, hissing from between clenched fangs when the wolf growled threateningly at him.

"He got the better of me. It won't happen again," he said, hunching his shoulders to make himself seem bigger and more dominant—a wolf thing. Belphegor, ready to retort, was silenced by the intimidating presence of another figure that had just entered the room.

"It had better not, Levi A Than," a gruff voice warned. Said Levi seemed to shrink into himself, and Belphegor slightly turned to watch as the leader of the Vongola Werewolves, Xanxus, padded lazily into their midst. The leader's eyes were set on the dozing Varia leader, a slightly amused expression befitting his features. "I changed my mind. This trash belongs to me now." The crimson hues of the werewolf leader bore into Belphegor, asserting his authority. The young vampire stepped a couple feet away from Squalo's lifeless body and watched bitterly as Levi bent mechanically to throw the silver haired man over his shoulder and follow his precious boss to watch the remaining carnage to ensue on the vampire clan.

----

_Beautiful…_

_Like an angel._

_But deadly._

_Kill them first, before they kill you._

_Do you understand?_

_You'll never become a great leader until every single one of them is dead._

_Don't let their beauty fool you._

_----_

A nightmare. Every Varia vampire that stood to fight off the werewolf menace fell eventually. There were too many of the beasts. Finally, when there were scarce forces left, the vampires surrendered, especially once Xanxus showed them their unconscious leader. Without him, they felt lost, and became prisoners of the intruders. With Xanxus leading them, a vicious, bloodthirsty ruler, it seemed even the great Squalo was no match. The Varia Manor was proclaimed the new headquarters of the Vongola werewolves.

Days passed like years. The vampires – at least twenty of them – left were left to rot in the dungeon basement of what used to be Varia manor, unless a werewolf fancied a dying breed and decided to "keep one as a pet". The most sought after vampire was their fallen leader, Squalo, who had already been claimed by Xanxus. Squalo was the only vampire allowed out of the dungeon, and was tortured thoroughly by the sun when he was kept in his old quarters—also Xanxus' new favorite room.

Squalo was bound to the edge of the bed with platinum constraints, since that was the only metal a vampire was weak against. Depending on Xanxus' mood, the curtains may or may not be open, which made things even worse for Squalo on a sunny day. Two weeks into Varia's fall and Squalo was hiding desperately behind the side of the bed where he could be most hidden from the sun's harmful rays, whimpering while his right wrist remained exposed and had begun to turn a painful shade of red while his skin burned.

Xanxus barged in around noon, licking what was left of the blood from his lunch off the corner of his lips. He noticed Squalo writhing on the floor and gave a wolfish, sadistic grin, before he neared the vampire and pulled him up slightly by his long strands of silver hair. "What's wrong, sharky, don't like the sun?"

A low hiss of defiance rolled off Squalo's tongue, and the vampire, despite his current situation, bared his fangs. "Fuck you."

"Is that an offer?" the werewolf asked, a delicate brow rising, though his dark features betrayed his questionable look.

"Go fuck yourself!"

Releasing the vampire's hair, Xanxus instead gripped tightly at Squalo's chin, lifting the silernette's head up and tilting it to the side so he could press his face roughly Squalo's cheek. "You're fucking comical, did you know that? And you're at my mercy, so I'd watch what you say to me. I could do anything to you—anything I wanted." Squalo's breath hitched in a panicked way when he felt Xanxus' hands travel south, gripping at the beautiful creature's hips to pull him up against the wolf.

If it weren't for the loud knock at the door, Squalo might have found himself in a serious bind.

"Who is it?" Xanxus snapped irritably, turning his head around while Squalo veered his head back as far as he could, his attempt at freeing himself.

"It's Levi, boss. I'm sorry to interrupt, but your nephew has arrived. He's creating a ruckus."

A frustrated sigh left the raven haired male, but the Vongola leader soon released his hold on Squalo. He stepped away, heading towards the door, but stopped a moment to look back at the flustered and angry vampire. After a moment's consideration, he yanked the curtain to the window closed, and didn't wait to slam the door on Squalo's relieved gasp.

--

Downstairs, Yamamoto Takeshi, Xanxus' nephew, was knocking over tables, throwing blunt objects around the main hall, and lashing out at anyone who dared to try and stop him. He was powerful, one of the most powerful werewolves Xanxus allowed himself to associate with – even if they were blood related – but the leader could no longer allow the raging teen to continue his rampage. From the banister, he growled loudly, shouting, "ENOUGH!" Yamamoto faltered his next throw – one of the decorative loveseats that he had been attempting to through against the wall - but glared up at his uncle, defiance written across his face, which was a look usually not suited for the younger male.

"What's the meaning of this?" Xanxus demanded, rounding the banister to descend the stairs. Yamamoto bared his pointed canines and growled as his uncle neared, but dropped the loveseat to the side of him so he could round his shoulders and seem threatening. Xanxus resisted the urge to laugh.

"I told you to ignore this clan, Uncle! I was protecting it!" Takeshi roared, causing many of the spectating werewolves to flinch. Xanxus didn't.

"Ah, I remember your request. But then you fled to Denmark, and left the clan unprotected. These parasites don't need freedom—they'll multiply. I had to take action."

"YOU KILLED THEM ALL!" the young werewolf howled, slamming his bare arm into the loveseat enough to send it flying into the wall, where it crushed into several pieces. Xanxus' crimson eyes squinted—there was pain in the voice of his nephew.

"I didn't." A glimmer of shocked hope crossed Yamamoto's features, furthering Xanxus' suspicion. He smirked, but Takeshi caught himself and glowered. He was still angry about the slaughter. "The survivors are in the dungeon. If you want to worry yourself with their pitiful faces, go ahead. I have other matters to attend to." Unfortunately, those matters didn't include pinning an exasperated vampire leader naked against his bed. Not now, anyway.

Yamamoto, momentarily ignoring his uncle, darted down the halls like he knew exactly where he was going. Even more strange, Xanxus concluded. But he needn't dwell upon it for the time being.

--

The three werewolves guarding the door to the dungeon were reluctant to let the young royalty past. After a few snappy comments that were unlike Yamamoto, however, they let him through, and he was devastated at what he found. Every one of the vampires were chained like dogs to the stone walls of the dungeon, either asleep or passed out from fatigue. A worried knot twisted painfully in his stomach while he searched through the survivors, at near tears until he came across a pale, shoulder-length haired silvernette passed out in the far corner. Blessed relief swam through him momentarily – at least the vampire was alive! Well, as alive as a vampire could be. Takeshi quickly knelt, brushing the dirtied hair from the other's face, lips slightly parted as he searched for words that were caught tightly in his throat.

In a rush of anger, he ripped the platinum chains from around the silvernette's ankles, wrists, and neck, and allowed the slumped figure to fall into him.

"Hayato…? Can you hear me?" Takeshi's heart stood at standstill while he waited for agonizing seconds until seafoam green eyes slowly fluttered open.

"T-Take… shi?" Those now dulled green eyes attempted to register just how real the moment was, and when he realized that it truly was Yamamoto holding him, he choked on a cough of surprise. For a few minutes, Yamamoto held the smaller figure to himself, rocking him from relief and just glad that the other was in his arms. But when that died down, the smaller leaned back and stared up at the werewolf, before pulling back his arm and slamming his fist hard into Yamamoto's jaw.

"You asshole! Idiot! You fucking left me!" the vampire yelled, straining his voice until it cracked. Yamamoto sat, reeled back, holding his face with one hand in surprise. Hayato, desperate, picked up a chunk of metal that had once confined him and threw it hard at Yamamoto's head, which the werewolf easily dodged. "You said you would never leave! That you'd always be there to protect us! Fuck that!"

"Hayato, calm down!" Yamamoto pleaded, getting to his feet, ready to protect himself from further assaults. Other vampires were waking, confused at the noise.

"Now they're all dead! Ryohei, my sister, that stupid cow lover, e-even my mother..!" Unable to support himself any longer, Gokudera fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. Yamamoto couldn't simply watch him fall, he rushed forward and grabbed the male before he hit the ground and pulled him tight against his chest once more.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Hayato, so sorry… I thought that my uncle would keep his word.."

"Your hell-spawn fucking Uncle is up there on his high horse doing God knows what to our clan leader! Fucking ASSHOLE!" Hayato, for the life of him, tried to push Yamamoto off and failed miserably. "Let go of me, you filthy dog!"

"Hayato…"

"I said, get _OFF!"_ Pushing a strong, but weakened hand into the werewolf's face, Takeshi finally sighed and released the angry vampire. Gokudera fell on his rump, glaring hatefully at the man who had once promised to protect him and his clan from the wrath and the growing power of the werewolves. He felt betrayed, and most of all, heartbroken, and the silvernette could no longer look the other man in the face.

A few moments of silence passed before Yamamoto carefully stepped over the vampire as the silvernette tried to keep his compose calm, at least until the werewolf left. Then, "Hayato, I don't expect you to ever forgive me for leaving, but I will make things right the best I can. You and the rest of your remaining clan are hungry. I'll get you all the blood you need." With that as his final words, he left, leaving Gokudera alone with his nearly dead brethren to mourn the loss of his friends and family.

--

Later that night, guards entered the dungeon, looking pissed as they carted in three trays piled with IV blood bags. Slowly, the vampires awoke to the scent of blood, mouths watering as they were passed out evenly among the survivors. Gokudera hid in the corner, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his brethren would stay sane merely because the idiot werewolf had supplied them with some kind of pathetic kindness. Out of pity, he figured. Still, he sunk his fangs into the side of the bag once the werewolves had retreated out of the dungeon, preparing himself mentally to make a full recovery – and hopefully lead what was left of his clan to freedom.

--

The door to the room opened, and for a panicked second, Squalo thought it was Xanxus. He was relieved, however, though not entirely, to see a gentler face, and one that didn't belong to a horny, blood lusting vampire killer. This werewolf was much younger, with a confident air about him. And as he neared, Squalo's nose picked up the scent of fresh blood. Sure enough, settled in the young werewolf's hand was an IV bag filled with a vampire's most precious nutrition.

"I'm not fucking you for that, brat," the vampire snapped in a way a shark would. Ironic to his name.

The werewolf chuckled, amused, and shook his head as he neared the tiring vampire. "No, this is on the house. How are you feeling?" The boy sat in front of Squalo, not afraid to get close, and offered the bag.

After a moment of consideration, Squalo reached as far as his constraints would allow and pulled the bag to his mouth, greedily sinking his fangs into the pouch to feed. When he was finished – and he had pretty much sucked out every last drop – he pushed the bag onto the floor and stared at the younger male. "Who are you?"

"My name is Yamamoto Takeshi. I'm Xanxus' nephew," the werewolf said, eyes darkening at the mention of the man's name. "But don't associate him with me. I'm disgusted at what he's done."

"Finally, a werewolf I don't want to rip the head off of!"

Yamamoto laughed again, greeted by a clever smirk from the vampire that was slowly gathering back his strength. "I'll take that as a compliment." Picking up the emptied bag, Takeshi stuffed it halfway into his pocket, intent on disposing of it properly. He was an odd werewolf, but Squalo was beginning to like him. At least he didn't look at him like a sack of meat ready to be pounded—agh. Fucking horny werewolves. "If you're wondering, I've given the surviving vampires blood as well. They should be recovering. I'll bring them as much as I can."

Squalo squinted his eyes at the tanned male, suspicious. "Why are you helping us, dog?" he asked, trying not to sound _too _rude. After all, this mutt was helping them. That had to count for some politeness.

"Gokudera Hayato," Yamamoto said sternly, eyes drifting to the floor, "I made him a promise, but I didn't keep it very well. I'm sorry."

Squalo perked at the familiar name, but gave the werewolf a confused look. "The dynamite-obsessed brat? Wait—that would make you…"

"Did he tell you my name was Take?"

The vampire let the name register in his mind, and cringed. "Yeah… He said you were the reason why we were becoming the most powerful vampire clan in the Western Hemisphere. Geez, that makes you _the_ Take. That kid really rides your dick, doesn't he?"

Yamamoto gave Squalo something similar to a warning glare. "I let him down."

Squalo sighed, not really wanting to offend the only werewolf on their side. Not with the lives he still had left to protect. "They would have come for us eventually, whether or not you wanted to protect the clan. Either way, I'm sure they appreciate the help—even the bomb brat."

The air about them lifted, somewhat, and Takeshi nodded. He got up slowly and looked to the door just in time to see his uncle pass the threshold, irritated to find his blood relative there.

"What the hell are you doing in here with my trash, Takeshi?"

"You're the trash, Uncle!" Yamamoto snapped back in reply, the corner of his lip twitching in distaste. Squalo was highly impressed by his courage. He didn't think many men would dare lash out at Xanxus. The man was as deadly as his name meant tenth generation power.

"Shut the fuck up. Get out of my room, before I disregard your blood relation to me and sever your inflated head." When Takeshi didn't make a move the first time, Xanxus' blood red eyes glinted dangerously. He didn't need to growl to seem threatening. After taking a moment to send a slightly apologetic look towards Squalo, the young werewolf angrily left. That left the two of them alone, and Xanxus only made it worse by shutting the door.

Although that didn't stop the screams from reaching the ears of the rest of the manor throughout the night.

Fucking horny werewolves.


	2. Unwelcome Surprise

**Axel: **I realized that in my last chapter, I didn't do any warnings, or disclaimers, or introductions or anything like that. SORRY. I TOTALLY SPACED. HURHUR.

**Squalo: **VOOOI! What kind of fangirl are you, forgetting to do that shit?

**Axel: **STFU. I'LL DO IT NOW. Sorry, I don't own any of the characters, and yes… THIS IS YAOI. DON'T LIKEY? DON'T READY. 'NUFF SAID.

**Squalo: **Stop having my crap boss rape me in this story!

**Axel: **PFFT. It's what he does. Can't change that. NOW SHUT UP SO I CAN _START _THE STORY.

**Squalo: **Bitch.

**Axel: **Shark. Anyway, on with the show!

The silence was broken with the sudden eccentric flapping of small wings.

A little ball of yellow feathers descended from the midnight sky, slowing its fall as it neared the raven haired figure below. Before it could land, the figure lifted its right arm, offering his index finger as a perch. Tiny orange claws gripped onto the digit tightly, as it had done many times in the past, and continued to flap its wings while it chanted something that sounded like, "Hibari, Hibari!" The corners of the figure's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Kyouya~. Are you ready to leave?"

The amusement left the figure's face, replaced by a scowl that adorned his thin lips.

"I was preparing to leave without you," Hibari Kyouya said calmly, face dark. The scowl pulled up his lip slightly, revealing the ending daggers of two pointed fangs. "I prefer to work alone, Rokudo Mukuro."

A slightly taller man with a semi-spiked mass of blunet hair appeared from behind a cluster of thin trees, smiling despite the glares he was receiving. He looked somewhat normal, unless you counted his left eye, a crimson, demonic symbol of his power, quite literally. "Come now, Kyouya. I'm merely worried for our brethren." He approached the smaller man, grin still plastered on his lips, and despite the obvious warning in those midnight eyes, he lifted his fingers to Hibari's chin and tilted his own head in an almost curious manner. "I won't get in your way. You have my word."

For a few seconds, the two kept still, Mukuro staring gently while Hibari glared daggers. Hibird broke the silence and flew from its master's finger, giving Hibari his arm back enough to shift a tonfa that had been hidden in a loop under his black jacket against the blunet's chin. "Your word means nothing to me." After the raven haired beauty jerked the metal pole away, Mukuro sighed in a way that made him sound almost as if he were infatuated. After all, Hibari always was one to play hard to get. Always ignoring his advances and sweet nothings. But then again, Hibari Kyouya wasn't the average vampire. His rank among the elders as a commander of the militia gave him the authority he desired, but he wasn't always leading their forces into battle. The raven haired vampire always had a peon to do his "crowding" work, since he wasn't keen on being amongst others. And when it came down to investigations, he was the first to take charge. Hibari Kyouya didn't lose. He was the vampire race's ace.

Mukuro glanced up at Hibird as the tiny creature flew beneath the canopy of trees. Hibari was leading them to Castle Chateaux, where the oldest vampires of the world held their reign. This was also home to both younger vampires, where they were brought when turned from their human flesh. From there, they would bid farewell to five of elders – two were away with other affairs – and take a flight to Italy, where rumors had brought them to believe the mighty Vongola Manor had fallen to a ravenous pack of werewolves.

The two vampires were met at the front gate by four guards, who quickly identified them and allowed them to pass. They were offered a guide, but Hibari bluntly refused, and found the elder council room within the span of the large castle in only five minutes. A guard quickly announced their presence and the council granted their entry.

The elder council hall was the most spacious room in Castle Chateaux, and also the most important. It was close to midnight, so the curtains along the length of the walls were drawn back, allowing moonlight to illuminate the room at regular intervals. The ceiling was rounded, decorated with murals of deceased vampire elders, or epic battles, whether they be civil or race oriented. Candlelight was the only source of an orange glow, set beside each window and along the far wall where the seven thrones for the vampire elders were laid out evenly. Despite the century's technology, the elders insisted on making the entire castle based on ancient times, so nothing besides toiletries were current. As expected, two of the thrones were vacant, but the five elders present were sitting elegantly in their respected thrones.

Mukuro momentarily bowed his head in respect. Hibari merely closed his eyes.

The centermost throne belonged to the oldest – though he didn't look the part – vampire elder, Reborn. He was tall, wearing all black, besides the rim of his fedora and his undershirt, which were both orange. His hand was extended lazily to his left, where it loosely gripped the hand of the eldest female vampire, Luche. She was always smiling. To Reborn's direct right, two seats were empty, besides the middle of the two empty thrones, where Verde, the green haired elder, sat looking quite bothered. After Luche, however, the two thrones were occupied with Fon, Hibari's father, and Colonello, who seemed distressed.

"My Lords," Mukuro said coolly, with a hint of sarcasm etched in his voice. The elders ignored it.

"Where is Sawada Tsunayoshi?" Hibari asked, not afraid to be blunt. His father frowned slightly, shifting in his throne.

Reborn was the one to respond. "He's been missing since last night. We believe he's gone to Italy ahead of you. After all, he has many close ties in the Vongola clan."

"He's a fool," Mukuro mused, breath laced with a sigh.

"He's an elder," Reborn corrected, the brim of his fedora casting a shadow over his eyes. "Tsuna can take care of himself, even if his actions weren't fully justified as rational." Luche lightly squeezed his palm with her small fingers, and he glanced at her knowingly.

"Tsuna will not be too rash," she assured them, "He cares deeply for his friends and family, so he is doing what he believes he has to in order to protect them. Don't think badly of him."

"He's letting his heart lead him, kora!" Colonello chimed in, nodding his head in complete agreement.

Verde sighed irritably, earning him a slight pointed glare from the outgoing blonde elder. They leaned forward in their thrones slightly, but one look from Reborn caused them to part gazes and relax. "When you rescue the survivors, bring Tsuna back here. His matters aren't official, they're personal, and he needs to return to his duties." The eldest vampire then closed his eyes, finished with finalizing the two younger vampires' assignment.

Luche happily concluded for him. "Please be safe on your journey, young ones. May the stars illuminate your path."

Unlike the typical stereotype foretold, vampires could comfortably sleep at any hour, whether it is day or night. After a disturbing, painful rough night, Squalo was doing just that, but he wasn't alone. He was wrapped in the warm arms of a powerful man, the same man who'd ordered the kill on a majority of his clan. It was fucking ironic, or pitiful, but Squalo was too exhausted to care. He felt warm, for once. Stupid warm werewolf.

Xanxus' crimson eyes were open. He'd been awake for the past half an hour, after getting up to relieve himself and close the chamber's curtains before dawn approached. Squalo was free of his platinum binds, but could barely move to save his life. Xanxus was thinking of letting the vampire bathe with him soon.

It was a complete wonder why Squalo wasn't dead. The vampire was vulgar, angry, hateful, and with the blood Takeshi had given him, stronger. Xanxus wasn't usually the type to keep that kind of nuisance alive, but he was beginning to see why he might. Looking past the newly formed bruises on the pale male's cheeks, the shark-like vampire was flawless. Those longs strands of silver hair pooled over the male's back like water, and Xanxus already knew it was silky soft to the touch. For the fifth time that morning, he found himself brushing his lips over the top of the silvernette's head. Screw responsibility. He could spend half the day doing just that. As long as Squalo was sleeping, of course.

Squalo shuddered, and Xanxus held the beautiful creature closer to his warmth.

After taking all of the balled up anger – about his disobedient newphew, the stress of his idiot underlings, etc. – out on Squalo the previous night, the werewolf leader didn't bother to confine him. There was no possible way that the silvernette was going to be able to move freely after the abuse Xanxus had put him through. It was a good thing that both races could heal relatively quickly, because the werewolf was sure there were deep scratches along his back from where Squalo was avidly gouging at him.

Grunting slightly, Xanxus pushed the hair away from Squalo's neck, a smirk curling on the corner of his lips at the sight of his love bites and marks lining from the collar bone , leading upwards. Vampires _could_ have more than just pale skin; one just has to know how to make it that way.

The werewolf was put off from his thoughts when Squalo coughed and buried his face into the crook of his arm. There was an urge, somewhere inside of him, to push the vampire off and press his thumb into a new wound he'd left somewhere on the other's body, but he didn't. The shark wasn't doing too well to begin with.

"Boss?"

Hell no.

"Boss, are you awake?"

A knock, followed by a pause, and then another knock.

"What do you want, scum?" Xanxus irritably snapped, though his voice was lower than it could have been. Squalo shifted in his arms.

The man behind the door cleared his throat. It was Levi.

"I have some information for you, boss. Also, your breakfast has been prepared. It's ready for you as soon as you get up."

As annoyed as he was, Xanxus _was_ a bit hungry after wasting so much energy on Squalo. He snorted loudly, enough for Levi to hear, and reached for the empty wine bottle on the bedside table. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent it flying into the door, and Xanxus smirked when he heard a tussle from the other side of the wood.

"Fuck off, scum. I'll come out when I'm ready."

Levi didn't need to be told twice. He hurried off, most likely towards the banquet hall, where Xanxus' breakfast was being served.

The noise disturbed the vampire in his arms enough for those silver eyes to peak open. Xanxus was too busy silently contemplating on who he would make clean up the shattered glass on the floor – and he was leaning towards his destructive nephew – that he didn't notice. That is, he didn't until Squalo let out a very loud, very defined, "VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOI!"

The vampire's head was quickly slammed face first into the mattress, muffling his struggled cries of protest.

"You nearly busted my eardrum, fucking trash," Xanxus growled, tilting his head, eyes closed, while he tried to adjust to the ringing in his right ear. He was gritting his teeth in annoyance now.

"Myew phffukling wraped mie, aphhwole!"

Xanxus smirked. "What was that?" He pressed Squalo's head down harder, now amusing himself with drifting his free hand down the vampire's bare back, over the bruises and closed wounds he'd created. If it weren't for the heavy blanket covering Squalo's spine, the silvernette's exposed bottom would have most likely convinced Xanxus into another romp.

Silence. Actually, not too long afterwards, Squalo's body went limp. Xanxus instantly frowned, no longer amused. Another minute passed that Squalo didn't move, so he pushed the vampire over and examined the silvernette's motionless features.

Then,

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Pale, bitten hands flew up at Xanxus' face, and slender fingers wrapped around the tanned man's neck. Xanxus growled automatically while Squalo launched at him, tossed, turned, and somehow ended up straddling the man's waist. The vampire strangled Xanxus for a good two minutes before the werewolf finally had enough and slapped the hands away from his neck. And despite the blood Squalo had consumed the night before, he was still too exhausted to fight back. Xanxus had him pinned to the bed again in less than ten seconds. But Xanxus was grabbing Squalo in all the wrong places, and all the silvernette could do now was groan in pain and try to throw the man off. In vain, of course.

"I'll let you wear clothes if you shut the fuck up," the crimson eyed man proposed, though his voice didn't make him sound like he was in the mood to bargain. He loosened his grip slightly when Squalo calmed his thrashing and put out all his frustration by gripping the sheet on the mattress. Xanxus waited a minute at least before he flipped the vampire over, pulled Squalo to his chest and swiftly pulled the two of them off the bed. Xanxus had no shame in being completely nude, but apparently Squalo did. The vampire slapped Xanxus as hard as he could, baring his fangs with embarrassment while the werewolf tried to ignore him. He skipped the wardrobe, much to Squalo's dismay, and instead headed right into the adjoining bathroom, where he dumped the paler male into an empty bathtub.

"What the hell, mutt—"

"You'll get your clothes after you've had a bath. You smell dried blood and semen."

Xanxus drowned out Squalo's embarrassed cries of alarm by twisting the handles for the faucets and watching the warm water flow out onto the vampire's head. Squalo was quick to shift his position to the other side of the tub, panting heavily, which only allowed Xanxus to slip in on the other side. The water splashed up, and Squalo pulled his legs to himself, glaring hatefully at the werewolf. Xanxus was merely amused that the clear water was starting to turn a light pink from the dried blood that had caked on their scabbing wounds.

As desperate as Squalo tried to get in staying away from him, Xanxus eventually grabbed the vampire by the wrist and pulled him closer. Squalo would have thought it was a sexual assault – since it wasn't unheard of – if it hadn't been for the fact that Xanxus soon dumped a huge amount of shampoo onto the top of his head. And by huge amount, it was practically half the bottle.

"What the fuck? That's too much, jackass!" Squalo complained, shoving a hand through his hair so the shampoo didn't fall over his face. Xanxus ignored the other's protests so he could lather a good amount of the thick liquid into his own hair.

"Shut up and scrub, trash. I'm not doing it for you."

Several arguments, rinses, shouting, glaring, and smirks later, Xanxus had wrapped a towel around his waist and was hauling a struggling Squalo out of the bathroom over his shoulder. The vampire was continuing to lose his energy, which allowed Xanxus to take full control of the situation as he pushed the silvernette onto the bed, slapped him with the wet towel he'd ripped off his own waist, and moved to the wardrobe to fish through for clothing. For Xanxus, it was his usual black ensemble, fitted with multi-colored feathers tied to a string around his collar and a white undershirt. And for Squalo, well, since he'd decided earlier that he was going to force the vampire to attend a dinner party later on in the evening, he threw a formal grey dress shirt and black pants at the tempered male, not caring when Squalo annoyingly pointed out that they were only supposed to be used for special occasions.

"Put it on. I'm not giving you anything else. And if I have to tell you to shut the fuck up one more time, I'll make last night seem like it was romantic."

Squalo abruptly quieted himself after that.

Xanxus made sure to loosen the tie around his throat until it sagged uselessly around his neck before turning to face the silver haired vampire, who was quickly buttoning the shirt over his bruised chest – after all, he had to hurry before the sex-crazed werewolf decided that he was too horny to leave for breakfast. Instead, Xanxus gripped tightly at his wrist and tossed him further onto the bed, where his shoulders were caught by the soft pillows that broke his fall.

"HELL NO!" Squalo shouted, throwing his arms up in defense. Xanxus was already on him, though, spreading the shark's legs apart so he could fit between them. When the raven haired leader got too close, Squalo retracted, trying to push his knees up.

With Squalo's arms raised, Xanxus found it particularly easy to snap the platinum handcuffs around his wrists. For a moment, Squalo merely stared at them blankly.

"What, did you think I was going to fuck you again? I'm hungry. My stomach comes first, trash."

Along with the handcuffs came the neck restraint, and when that was fitted, Xanxus left. Squalo, then alone, finally sunk into the pain the previous night had given him. He gritted his teeth and pressed the side of his face into one of the large pillows he was laid against, wishing that that perhaps this pain could equal the guilt that burdened his heart for losing more than eighty percent of his clan.

When Xanxus arrived at the banquet hall for breakfast, he found his nephew talking to Levi, looking nervous as hell. But despite his curiosity, he remembered the defiance Yamamoto had been brewing lately, and reminded himself that he didn't give a damn. He'd have Levi fill him in later. For now, a gorgeous German steak was calling his name, and he was eager to respond. He soon realized, after about three bites in, that his meal wasn't going to be a silent and peaceful one.

"Uncle, I must speak with you," Takeshi began, taking a seat on the left side of where Xanxus sat, trying to enjoy his meal. Even in a banquet hall that used to belong to a powerful vampire clan, he sat at the end of the table. This was _his_ manor now.

Xanxus ignored him.

"Trust me, I wouldn't talk to you so calmly if it wasn't of the utmost importance." It wasn't like Takeshi to be so hateful. Xanxus was, for the most part, filled with pride to have someone hate him so much, even some one as love giving as his nephew. The werewolf still cursed his long deceased sister for giving birth to such a pansy, and leaving to become the legal guardian of the brat because the human meatbag she conceived Takeshi with couldn't live longer than eighty years.

"Say what you have to and dismiss yourself. Seeing your face so early in the morning is seriously diminishing my appetite." Xanxus never did glance over once at his nephew. He felt that if he did, his hands might lose interest in cutting up his steak and lean more towards strangling the tan flesh of the boy's neck. And that would be a waste of a good steak's warmth.

Yamamoto's lip slightly twitched into a scowl. Only a light one. "We're having guests for dinner tonight. Not ones that you will particularly like."

This peaked Xanxus' interest. He slowed his eating, enough to chew, swallow, and utter, "Who's coming?"

"Lord Byakuran and two of his advisors of the court."

Xanxus dropped his fork and steak knife.

"_Fuck."_


	3. Promises

**Axel: **I'M SO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU ALL WAIT SO LONG! I promise it won't happen again! WAAAH. I FEEL SO HORRIBLE!

**Squalo: **You _should_! You even stopped them at a cliffhanger about Byakuran, of all people!

**Yamamoto: **Aw, Squalo~. Give her some slack! She's going to college soon, na?

**Squalo: **No fucking excuses!

**Axel: **Right, no excuses! Here you go, minna! After the long wait, you finally understand why they don't want Byakuran around!

_**-ushishikufufu-**_

Mostly everyone who knew of Byakuran also knew to stay as far away from him as possible. And since the man was the leading elder of the entire werewolf race, Xanxus despised him with a rueful passion. He didn't take orders from _anyone_, and yet he was supposed to act in a form of submission to someone who barely had more than a hundred years on the Vongola clan leader. It was fucking ridiculous. But it was so like Byakuran to want to "stop by" on Xanxus's affairs. After all, Xanxus often showed vivid signs of rebellion, and was therefore to have a keen eye kept on him. Xanxus, of course, _hated that_, but could do nothing about it. Byakuran, for the time being, held slightly more power over him. This was why Xanxus was increasingly strengthening his own forces.

This new turn of events brought Xanxus to cancel the formal dinner party he had been planning in replacement for a slightly altered one—one that didn't involve trying to break Squalo in to dining with civilized werewolves.

No, that would have to wait. Byakuran hated vampires with a passion—something to do with a bad experience that Xanxus never really bothered to let himself care in the slightest about—and would most likely disrupt the order that the Vongola werewolf kept with the remaining survivors of the Varia clan. It was proving to be highly irritating, but he had agreed—more like scoffed and he was assumed to have agreed—to allow his nephew to relocate the few remaining Varia vampires to a more isolated area on the property for the remainder of Byakuran's stay. Xanxus couldn't exactly say that he cared about their fates, but an angry grimace always ended up on his face when he thought of Byakuran putting an end to his private trash.

Breakfast had soon lost its appeal. Ignoring the underlings who had attempted to please him with requests for new dishes or needless things, his blood red eyes turned to the banister above his head. The manor's dining hall was located in the center of the estate, directly underneath the open ceiling where railings closed off the ground of the second floor in a large rectangle. Those eyes remained focused on the hallway door where he knew Squalo's bedroom was not far away from. By now, however, Yamamoto would have escorted the vampire to the others.

Fucking Byakuran was ruining his personal time.

At least the shark-like vampire wouldn't much to complain about after he was reunited with what was left of his clan. Then again, in the short time he had known the Varia leader, Squalo _always _found something to complain about. And here Xanxus thought he was showing his trash favor by allowing him to remain in his own room after the others had been locked away. So much for appreciated hospitality.

Eventually, he closed his eyes. His peons had finally given up asking if he needed anything, and instead began the banquet hall's preparation for a dangerous dinner.

_**-ushishikufufu-**_

The healing process was slowed by the little blood he had consumed over the course of two weeks, and although Squalo was—inwardly—grateful for the blood Xanxus's nephew had brought him, it still hadn't been enough to ward the pain away. He found no comfort in trying to sleep, only more pain, and it wasn't even the physical kind. Every time he fell asleep, he was only haunted by the faces of his lost brethren, or of his master looking upon him with distaste for falling so easily. Even if Belphegor had betrayed him, he still shouldn't have allowed such a thing to happen.

"Damnit..," Squalo muttered, tossing his head lightly, only to strain the platinum binding around his neck, "This is too much! I swear to the Great Primo, I'll kill them all!" His silver orbs trembled slightly until he forced himself to calm down, sinking effortlessly into the mattress that he'd once before only kept to himself. Now he could smell that mutt leader everywhere—on the sheets, on the pillows, even on _himself._

Not like there was much he could do even if he did set himself free. Squalo wasn't exactly in shape to help the others escape. Ever since he'd woken up the first night after the prince had betrayed him, he'd been thinking of ways to escape, but by now he was starting to lose hope. Maybe he was going to die here.

But he didn't want to die like _this._ If it weren't for the fact that he still had a dozen or so vampires of his clan to look after—honestly, he didn't know the exact number of all those who had survived—he would have allowed himself to fight off Xanxus until the man had been forced to kill him. But he couldn't just abandon them like this. He wasn't _that_ much of an asshole. And if they've given up already, he'd punish them to no end.

A soft knock shocked Squalo out of his thoughts, causing silver hues to turn suspiciously towards the door. Who the hell knocked? _For sure_ it wasn't Xanxus, as the man would have simply done something dramatic like kick the door in if he wanted entrance—the bastard sometimes didn't even use the doorknob and expected his underlings to fix whatever he broke out of impulse—but, seriously, who would just _knock? _Wasn't he a prisoner?

"Who the hell is it?" he snapped, eyes betraying the sound of his voice. Seconds later, the door was pushed inward and the overly friendly werewolf, Yamamoto, entered. For some reason, Squalo had been expecting a smile, but the kid's eyes were deadly serious and an intent frown was plastered on his face as he slowly approached the bed and, for a moment, simply took in Squalo's appearance.

A guilty look crossed the amber hues watching him, resulting in confusion on Squalo's part. What the hell did he see when he looked at him like that, anyway?

Although Yamamoto seemed to be holding back from saying something else, he tipped his head in a slight bow. "Sorry, Squalo, but you can't stay here right now. I'm going to take you to the other vampires, okay?" Squalo's eyes widened a bit while the young werewolf rounded the bed and began tampering with his restraints.

"What are you saying? That bastard is actually going to let me see my clan?" Squalo's throat felt dry, and that wasn't simply from the lack of blood. It had taken him a lot not to say something like "the rest of my clan", but admitted that out loud was a lot more painful than it seemed.

"It's… complicated," Yamamoto sighed, gently brushing those long silver strands of hair away from Squalo's neck to release his neck bind. With that gone, Squalo was completely free. It was too bad that Squalo didn't have the energy to get up on his own. "We had to move all of the vampires to the underground cavern below the manor. They won't be easily found there."

Squalo gave an intake of breath he didn't need, his eyes then widening marginally. "How did you know about—?"

"It's the only place we can keep them safe from _him._ Listen, I know you don't understand, Squalo. I wish I could do more for your clan, but my Uncle would never agree to me just… releasing them." Yamamoto bowed his head, ashamed of himself for letting this happen. If he'd just stayed in the area, Xanxus wouldn't have taken the opportunity to nearly destroy the clan right from under his nose. "I know the cavern is very precious to your clan, but I wouldn't have insisted upon it if I didn't have your best interests in mind." Gritting his teeth without realizing it, the werewolf simply wished things could have been different. He wished Gokudera didn't hate him for leaving, even if he had no excuse to have done so.

There was a long period of silence. Squalo stared at Takeshi wordlessly, wondering what compelled him to not simply kill the kid and try to free his clan other than the simple fact that he was weakened. Eventually, though, he couldn't take that kicked puppy look and sighed irritably, taking what little energy he had to shift his head forward until it knocked against Yamamoto's forehead, enough to cause the werewolf to wince slightly from the impact of their heads colliding.

"Vooi! Kids like you shouldn't worry so much about things that are out of your control! If you want to do something about it, then you need to stop filling your head with the past, got it?" Squalo, honestly, had no idea what had compelled him to say something like that, but judging by the surprised look on Yamamoto's face, he'd said something right. And it earned him a smile that made him roll his eyes.

"You're right! Thanks, Squalo."

Squalo, in return, scowled at him. "Keh, I don't know why you're thanking me. I just said what you should have already known! Now, are you going to take me to my clan or aren't you?"

Seeming to remember the task at hand, Yamamoto nodded firmly, though his expression had increasingly lightened from the morbid one he'd had upon entering the room. And although Squalo hadn't literally meant "take him", but that didn't stop Takeshi from scooping the Varia leader bridal style into his arms.

"W – WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Squalo shouted, gripping a handful of Yamamoto's hair while he mustered a growl. "I can walk on my own, you werewolf brat!"

Yamamoto shook his head, seeming unfazed by the tugs he felt. "I can't let any of your fresh scent lead a path to the cavern entrance. If _he_ finds it, you'll all be killed." Those playful features turned serious again while he spoke of Byakuran, stepping carefully out of the room and into the hallway.

"Who is this person you keep talking about, anyway? He can't be as bad as that bastard Uncle of yours."

"He's… our leader." The two of them seemed to ignore the goings-on around them, though Yamamoto's gaze remained on his step only because he didn't want any of Squalo's scent touching anything. Squalo's reasoning was out of inward denial of the battle that had transpired in the manor, the one that had taken a majority of the lives of his clan. "Not like you are or my Uncle. This is the leader of our race. He's the one who decides who leads and who follows, and who dies." Yamamoto seemed more firm with those last few words. "His name is Byakuran. I don't know if you've heard of him, but… he's ruthless, and he's very manipulative. He hates vampires. He hates my Uncle, too, but my Uncle kills them more than any of the other leaders he's appointed, so Byakuran probably sees him as an asset."

Squalo scoffed loudly, glaring pointedly at Levi as he realized they were passing the loyal underling of Xanxus, though his mind stayed very concentrated on Yamamoto's conversation. "If the bastard boss isn't very well liked, why doesn't he just kill the rest of us so he won't get in trouble with Byakuran?"

Takeshi blinked, pausing only to wait for a werewolf to accept a very thick, black blanket from one of the werewolves guarding a side door of the manor. "Actually… I'm not sure. I wasn't expecting him to let me relocate the vampires somewhere safer from Byakuran's detection. And I'm sure my Uncle is going to report that the entire clan has been wiped out." No, now that Yamamoto thought about it more critically, Xanxus had been the one to assert that Squalo was to be moved immediately. "You'll have to put this on for a little bit," Takeshi offered, the conversation then forgotten while he wrapped Squalo in the blanket from head to toe.

"Keh! You'd better not be leading me to my death, you werewolf brat!" the Varia leader warned, tensing when he heard the doors creak and the chirping birds that could be heard amongst the midday breeze.

Yamamoto increased his pace enough to reach the hidden entrance of the underground cavern quicker, and upon entering, nodded to the guards who remained posted inside. They took the blanket from the two when Takeshi held it out and stepped aside to let them descend the narrow staircase leading into darkness.

However, the darkness didn't last long. Takeshi had personally saw to lighting lanterns that hung on the wall of the cavern, leading all the way to the largest room at the end of the hall the stairs had opened up into. Xanxus hadn't allowed Takeshi to release the binds of the vampires when they were moved, but they were at least safe—for now. He set Squalo on his feet when they reached the door, allowing the werewolf to open it which, according to Squalo, took far too long.

The sight of his brethren tied in platinum bonds in the center of the room made his dead heart wrench.

Few were awake, but the ones that were conscious stared up in awe of their leader, _alive, _in front of them. It had been assumed that Squalo had died soon after their surrender, and it wasn't like the werewolves would exactly care to tell them of the man's well-being.

The youngest of their clan by appearance, a boy named Fuuta who had been changed when he was only seven years old, cried out first. "Takeshi-onii! You brought Squalo-sama back!"

That regained Squalo's senses and proceeded to wake the others. Yamamoto, who had been momentarily distracted with trying to catch Gokudera's gaze, offered Squalo his arm to help him walk, which the vampire leader wordlessly refused. Every step was painful, but he made it look effortless as he crossed the room, stopping in front of Fuuta, who sat beside Gokudera, and another tired-looking vampire named Spanner.

"Squalo-sama..," Fuuta mumbled, his eyes filling with tears. Squalo pulled his hands out of fists enough to kneel down and rest his fake hand atop the boy's head. His eyes were on Gokudera.

"You told that werewolf brat about the cavern?" the leader asked heavily, his voice stern and disapproving. As much as he was coming to like Yamamoto, it was simply prohibited to tell outsiders of their last resort. The cavern would have been an ideal place to temporarily seek refuge if they had been able to escape. Gokudera averted his gaze, regret obvious in his seafoam green eyes.

When no words were offered as a response, Squalo sighed loudly. It wasn't like they had any choice now, especially if Yamamoto thought this Byakuran guy was a real horror. Anyone who made Xanxus succumb must be powerful. But he was unsure what sort of words he could offer to give his clan hope of making it through something like this.

"I want to help," Takeshi said suddenly from behind him, stepping forward slowly and trying to look past Gokudera's sudden hateful glare that the silvernette had pointed in his direction. He looked over the mostly broken souls sitting on the floor and suddenly attained a determined look in his eyes, one that would most likely earn him trouble later on. Without another word, he knelt beside Squalo and reached for Fuuta, taking his neck bind into both hands and snapping it in two, then proceeded to do the same with the ones on his wrists and feet.

Squalo watched Takeshi do the same to Spanner while the surprised vampire thanked him.

"What are you doing, idiot?" Gokudera snapped before Squalo could get the chance to ask, still glaring while Takeshi took extra care to remove the restraints from the silvernette. Even from those harsh words, he received a kind smile.

"I don't care what my Uncle says. You guys shouldn't be treated this way. It's just not right." All eyes were turned to the werewolf as he took the time to remove the platinum bonds from every vampire in the room. "It's still early. I can have the guards raid the blood storage for more IV bags."

"Are you stupid?" Squalo piped up, gathering Fuuta and placing him in the arms of one of the females, a red haired woman named Kyoko. She and the only other female, Haru, comforted him in ways that only women could. "What's to say that once we have enough strength, we won't escape? Your Uncle will have your head."

Once again, Squalo was surprised to see a smile grace those tanned features. "That doesn't change the fact that this is wrong. Plus, I've already accepted any consequences that may result from this. Just promise me that you won't try to escape until Byakuran leaves." The other vampires save Squalo seemed confused, but the leader's eyes were hard. Yamamoto was really worrying about this unknown werewolf ruler.

"Anyway, I'll get those IV bags," Takeshi said quickly, not wanting to talk more on the subject, despite the curious looks the other vampires were giving both him and Squalo. They all turned to talk amongst themselves, which made Squalo think that he was the only one who saw Gokudera dart after Yamamoto right before he shut the room's door.

Yamamoto instantly knew that he wasn't alone in the hallway. "Hayat—"

"You really _are _an idiot! What the hell is wrong with you? You're making it obvious that you're the one helping us," Gokudera spat after blocking Yamamoto's path to the stone staircase. To anyone else, he would have simply looked disgusted and angry, but Takeshi could see those emerald eyes betraying the expression on Hayato's face.

"It's the least I can do now, since it's my fault for leaving in the first place." Yamamoto looked stricken, but kind. Gokudera, now beginning to realize that Takeshi was more than willing to risk his life for their freedom, glared at the werewolf. He hated the way that Takeshi was torturing himself like this, but as someone who relied heavily on his own pride, he couldn't exactly throw himself at the wolf and forgive him on the spot.

"Then why _did _you leave?" he demanded, barring his fangs as if daring Yamamoto to not answer him truthfully. Hayato made a slight noise of confusion from his throat, watching those hazel eyes look even more tortured than before.

"For Tsuna. He needed my help negotiating with one of the werewolf clans in Denmark. They wouldn't have believed him otherwise." At Gokudera's look of shock, Yamamoto smiled apologetically. Tsuna had grown up with the silvernette when they were still human, and they had been turned together by the same person—one of the Elders, Reborn. The two of them had then remained several years with the Varia clan until Tsuna was called to train as one of the next Elders. Gokudera, unfortunately, had been left behind, but it had been through Yamamoto's bond with Hayato that he met Tsuna, and that had been when Yamamoto was still fairly younger, almost a hundred years ago.

During the silence, Hayato seemed to register just how important Yamamoto took his neutral role as a werewolf. He hadn't taken into account the reason behind his leaving, of Takeshi's temporary personal protection of the Varia clan. And now that he knew Tsuna was that reason, he felt disgusted by his own actions towards Takeshi—Great Primo, that must have hurt Yamamoto so badly. "Takeshi… I – I had no idea.."

Yamamoto slowly shook his head, that stupid smile on his face again. His eyes were closed, though, so Hayato couldn't see the look in his eyes, or if that look was even compatible with that smile. "It's fine. I should have warned you properly before I left, but I didn't. It's my fault."

Gokudera grunted. "You idiot… !" Seconds later, he had done what he had, moments ago, sworn to himself he wouldn't do—thrown himself against Yamamoto, wrapping cold arms around that warm body. Takeshi easily relaxed his arms around the vampire in return, pressing his nose against the top of those silvernette locks like he hadn't been able to do in so long.

They stayed just like that for a while, contented even with the silence as long as it was in each other's arms. Then, finally, Yamamoto spoke. "Hayato, I'm so sorry. Your sister, and your mother… I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"S – shut up! Just shut up," Hayato begged him huskily, gritting his teeth tightly while he kept his face properly buried against the werewolf's shoulder. He didn't want to think about them right now. All these emotions were too much to begin with. Even with Yamamoto, he didn't want to show that much weakness. Not now. He could mourn his family when they were safe.

Eventually, Yamamoto pulled Gokudera back from him, though they remained at an extremely close proximity. He moved both hands away from the vampire's shoulders to gently cup those pale cheeks between his palms, and, after a moment of staring, closed his eyes and kissed him on the forehead. His lips lingered there while he spoke.

"Just promise me you'll keep the others here until Byakuran leaves. And then, _I swear to you with my life_, I will guide every single one of you all the way to the Elders' Castle safely."


	4. Love Bites

**Axel: **So, did you guys enjoy that little update? ROFL. Sorry, for realz yo, for MAKING YOU WAIT! Because I made you wait TOO LONG, now I'm making you guys wait NOT SO LONG for THIS update. Make any sense? Hope so, because I have no idea what I'm saying…

**Squalo: **…you need mental help.

**Axel: **YOU'RE MEAN! -sobs- Anyway, maybe I should do some review responses?

**Hana1225: **Aww, sorry! Yeah, she's a total redhead. Do you watch the anime or just read the manga?

**poutergeist: **Great, I'm glad you like it!

**Yami Dragoness of Dark: **UWAAAA~. -clings to- Nope! I couldn't abandon you guys. IMPOSSIBLE! Agh, but yeah, I know… freaking Byakuran, always messing things up. You can expect some epic badguyness from him soon. I just HAVE to torture the boys! It's in my blood!

**MeLoNnAiSE: **HAHA, you're the first one who said you love Byakuran. But I have to agree, I'm getting anxious to put him in already. 8059? WHY YES. I had to have them make up, or else my borrowed Gokudera muse would HATE ME FOREVER.

**Irrelevancy: **Everyone loves Yama! Or, at least, I hope so. I mean, what's NOT to love? And you got your wish of a new update, TO THE EXTREME!

**Axel: **P.S. Sorry for any typos. With how fast I did this, I didn't have time to sit back and go through it all properly. I'll get around to it, but I'm sure you all are just anxious to see what happens next! Enjoy~.

_**-ushishikufufu-**_

Promises were supposed to mean nothing to Gokudera. He had been promised many things in his life and a majority of them had been taken back. But that was supposed to be different with Takeshi. It hadn't taken long for the werewolf to steal what was left of his heart, but he had, and even by this fault of Yamamoto's leaving that left them without protection, in the end the silvernette couldn't help but to forgive him. Not only did the man have a legitimate excuse, but Gokudera could tell so easily that the result of what had happened had an utmost negative effect on Yamamoto. He'd never seen Takeshi's eyes in that much pain before.

He'd returned to the room soon after Yamamoto left, taking it upon himself to point out wounds that weren't healing well on the others to Squalo, who had already torn up his entire left sleeve as makeshift bandages. The lack of healing properties were due to scarce blood, but since Yamamoto was fetching them a supply, they were hoping to gain some of that strength back.

"Vooi, bomb brat, come look at this for a second," Squalo interjected, bringing Gokudera away from finishing the wrapping of Fuuta's ankle. He left the task to Kyoko and stepped over to the Varia leader, who was currently looking over Chikusa Kakimoto, one of their more quiet vampires.

"What is it?"

Squalo had peeled back the collar of Chikusa's shirt, exposing an odd, oval shaped wound by his collarbone that almost looked dotted in separation the entire way around. Dried blood caked the mass of it—the wound looked deeper than it was large—making Chikusa's pale skin look even sicklier by the contrast.

Gokudera knelt beside Squalo, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Is that… a bite mark?" When Chikusa tensed, the two silvernettes were nearly positive that it was. The ebony haired male had always been so closed off and quiet, so the others had taken to, instead, reading his actions and expressions—when Chikusa made them, of course. "Who did this to you, Chikusa?" the bomb lover asked carefully, eying the wound critically. The pattern of the bite didn't look like anything another vampire could do. After all, when a vampire bit someone, there were only two marks left as evidence.

When they hadn't received an answer, Squalo scoffed angrily. Using his fake hand, the Varia leader moved to brush away some of the hardened blood, but Chikusa suddenly jerked away from the grip, his dark eyes hard and unreadable. "The hell? If you don't want he—"

"I'm back!" a cheerful voice called, causing Squalo to glance over his shoulder and Gokudera to turn completely. Yamamoto had a large burlap sack thrown over his shoulder, and as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, he fished a hand into the opening to pull out an IV bag and hand it to Fuuta sitting on the floor. "There's enough for two per person, but if I were you, I'd hold out on the second bag until you need it." A silent crowd had circled around Yamamoto, gratefully taking their IV bags when they were offered.

After most of the bags had been distributed, Takeshi carried what was left in the bag over to Gokudera, Squalo and Chikusa. He handed a few bags over to the three of them, but it seemed that both Gokudera and Squalo had their minds on something other than blood. "Oi, Takeshi. Do you know what this is?" Hayato asked, ignoring Chikusa's slight glare while he grabbed the ebony haired vampire by the arm and put the wound into Yamamoto's line of sight.

Yamamoto drew in a sharp breath. "Who… Chikusa…. Do you know what that is?" Takeshi asked carefully, giving the wounded vampire the beginning of a serious look. A few seconds passed until Chikusa slowly nodded.

"What? Seriously, what the hell could something like this mean anyway?" Squalo snapped, irritated that Chikusa wasn't letting him help, or speak up on the matter either. Yamamoto stared at Chikusa for several long moments while the ebony kept his gaze intensely on the floor. Eventually, the werewolf heaved a small sigh and gripped both silvernettes by the elbow, leading them away. Squalo was the only one who struggled out of the grip and stopped immediately. "_What?_"

"It's a cultural thing," Takeshi started, unsure of how to properly explain something like this. Gokudera could tell he wasn't exactly comfortable with explaining by the way the werewolf was rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"_And?_" Squalo insisted, silver eyes unblinking. "It sure as hell isn't a vampire _thing_. We would have known that."

"Well..," the tanned male sighed, "Basically, for werewolves, a mark like that would be a mating mark. Typically—"

"_What?_" both Squalo and Gokudera chimed in at the same time.

"Hang on, let me explain!" Takeshi shook his head. "Usually werewolves mark each other when they decide to mate. And when they choose their mates, it's for life. A mark like that can't go away. Although, I have to see I'm surprised that… a werewolf would choose a vampire for their mate. That's pretty one-sided, since vampires can't bite werewolves back—that's deadly."

"So you're saying one of _your kind _mated with Chikusa?" Squalo inquired, simply to clarify. His silver eyes momentarily returned to Chikusa, who hadn't removed his gaze from the floor.

"Well, yes. That's what it looks like."

"Che. Idiot, why are you just telling us about this now?" Gokudera eyed Yamamoto with a hard, questioning look, causing the werewolf to hesitate slightly in responding. By 'us', Gokudera probably meant 'me', and Yamamoto didn't even want to broach the subject about mating. It was like the sex talk all over again.

"Haha, well… it never came up. Anyway, maybe I can find out who mated with Chikusa. The scent should still be on him." Attempting to somewhat change the subject, the werewolf neared Chikusa again, surprised when he received a hiss and the ebony shielding his shoulder with his palm protectively. "Na, Chikusa… Whoever bit you isn't in trouble. It's a good thing, actually. If more werewolves were accepting of vampires, then maybe there wouldn't be so much fighting between them." He made sure to kneel, as to not seem so threatening, but Chikusa didn't make a move to submit, and eventually Yamamoto decided to stop pushing.

Instead, Takeshi handed the mated vampire his second IV bag and stood up, clapping his hands together. "This is all I can do for now. I have a few things to do before _he_ arrives, so I should be going." Hazel eyes turned to seafoam green hues, remaining locked for a few seconds until Yamamoto moved to leave.

"Che."

The two silvernettes watched the werewolf's back until the door closed. And since the mystery of the bite was solved, Squalo had other things to attend to—namely ribbing up his other shirt sleeve to wrap more unsealing wounds.

"Don't just stand there, bomb brat! Help me out." Gokudera, snapping out of a thoughtful contemplation, focused his attention back to aiding the wounded.

_**-ushishikufufu-**_

Xanxus was getting pissed.

No, he was beyond pissed. It had been five hours since he'd last seen his nephew, and the brat knew well not to keep him waiting, especially when Byakuran would be arriving any minute. The werewolf ruler hadn't exactly given them a time estimate on when he would arrive, but Yamamoto had told him he assumed it was sometime after three in the afternoon. Well, it was afternoon all right, and were either bastards to be found? No.

The Vongola boss clenched an angry fist on the arm rest of his throne, which his underlings had currently seated at one of the ends of the long, rectangular table set for dinner. He would have been in the library if his damn peons hadn't insisted on moving the chair sooner; and since his throne was his most satisfactory seating arrangement, it wasn't like he could sit on one of those hard assed chairs Squalo had chosen to put all around the rest of the manor. The damn vampire had no comfortable tastes.

"Uncle."

There had been an unspoken truce written between Yamamoto and Xanxus for the time being. And since the younger werewolf no longer held a rebellious attitude with him, it was easier for him to be tolerated. Of course, the older man knew this was temporary. As soon as Byakuran was gone, Yamamoto was going straight back to his defiant ways. When that time came, Xanxus was already prepared to show him who was boss.

Xanxus was silent. He was already pissed for his nephew taking so long, and now that the boy had finally decided to show up, he wanted _this_ boss's attention? Think again.

"Uncle, answer me or not, but Byakuran has arrived." Crimson eyes regarded the young werewolf murderously, but it wasn't necessarily because he felt like ripping off the boy's head. More so because he would rather direct that energy towards Yamamoto instead of reverting it to Byakuran, and most likely being afflicted for it if he did.

"Then you'd better go greet him, scum," Xanxus said pointedly, deciding that now was a good time to close his eyes and mentally ensure that he was going to be ready for the headache to come. Of course, he _did _take sadistic comfort in knowing that he could take out his frustrations on his trash.

"Now, now, Xanxus, there's no need. I'm already here."

Yamamoto froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end while he suppressed a shiver. He hadn't been expecting hearing that voice so suddenly, but he quickly moved out of the doorway enough to give the white haired man and his two escorts—two males, a teal haired one and a crimson haired one—access to the room. Byakuran looked about the interior of the dining hall with mild, and probably fake, interest.

"Rather impressive how parasites managed to make this place look halfway decent. Don't you agree, Xanxus?" All eyes turned to the dark haired man sitting in his throne. Impressively, Xanxus's eyes remained closed.

"Trash will be trash."

The young werewolf came to his senses at his Uncle's voice, and as underlings began to filter in—some taking seats, and others placing appetizers on assorted plates around the table—he raised an arm in an effort to get the werewolf ruler's attention. "Lord Byakuran, if you would like to take your seat—"

Byakuran took his rightful seat on the opposite end of the table from Xanxus. His throne wasn't as extravagant as the one Xanxus sat in, but the underlings had taken good care in choosing a close second. Thankfully, Byakuran didn't appear conflicted by it. His two escorts sat on either side of him.

"Ah, I don't believe I fully introduced my companions," the fair haired man began, a smile on his face, slanted eyes closed suspiciously. Yamamoto took the slight distraction of conversation to seat himself at his Uncle's right hand. "To my left, we have Zakuro, and my right, Kikyo. They're my latest creations." Byakuran couldn't help but chuckle at his wording.

Xanxus's blood red eyes cracked open. He didn't need to ask what the man meant, since Byakuran took it upon himself to explain anyway.

"They weren't born werewolves, if you couldn't tell. That makes them _special._" Neither Kikyo nor Zakuro appeared disturbed by the way their leader spoke of them, as if they were some kind of experiments. They were more like ornaments, well, or so they seemed at the moment. Yamamoto had a feeling they could do much more than sit there and look flawless. "How special is up for you to determine. Actually, I had been hoping you had kept some of those leeches alive, Xanxus. I would love to show you what they could do."

Yamamoto was struggling to keep it together. If Xanxus gave into his peaked interest and showed Byakuran the surviving vampires, there was no way any of them would have a chance. He tried not to seem to worried about it, unsure if whether or not Byakuran could tell, of if he were truly interested in his own words only. God, maybe he should have tried to help the vampires escape sooner. Byakuran's wrath was far more severe than anything his Uncle could have done to him.

"They're all dead. I made sure of that."

The werewolves kept quiet. Yamamoto, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief, told himself that he would definitely try not to act so harshly towards his Uncle's actions in the future, no matter how cruel he became. For a matter of speaking, Takeshi owed him one.

"Is that so? A shame," Byakuran sighed, ignoring the bits of thoroughly cooked meat Kikyo had dished up for him on his plate. "I suppose that horrid scent won't ever leave this place. Really, how can you stand it?"

Xanxus didn't respond. He didn't eat, either. Yamamoto couldn't exactly blame him, after all, he had completely lost his appetite the moment Byakuran entered the room. "Lord Byakuran, I trust your journey went without hindrance?" Talking in replacement of his Uncle was a bit hard sometimes, especially since using more formal language didn't exactly suit him.

"Quite well, actually. I was pleased to see that the surrounding areas appeared to be parasite free. Tell me, how long ago was it that you finished off the last of them from the manor?" Byakuran, who proceeded to ignore the food on his plate, accepted a marshmallow from Zakuro when it was offered. Yamamoto knew better than to comment about it.

"Two weeks ago," Levi A Than chimed in from Xanxus's left side. Crimson eyes sharply turned to his loyal peon, pupils narrowing dangerously.

Byakuran finally opened his eyes, his slanted violet hues boring into the man opposite him on the other side of the table. "That's strange. There's a strong fresh scent on your nephew, Xanxus. Don't you find that peculiar?"

Seconds after the words left Byakuran's lips, Kikyo and Zakuro were out of their seats, almost too fast for even the inhuman eyes to see. The sound of glass breaking and chair legs screeching against the wood floor sounded as the teal haired man slammed Yamamoto's head into the table and Zakuro bent forward over the ebony haired boy, taking in long whiffs of his scent, and the scent that he had been unable to wash off with a mere shower.

Surprisingly, Xanxus stood as well, his gaze met in a locked battle with Byakuran's open eyes.

"Is that a challenge, Xanxus?" the werewolf ruler's voice ebbed, his smile changed into a wicked smirk. When Zakuro finally finished, he darted off after seeking inaudible confirmation from his Lord to do so. Kikyo waited a few moments to follow, giving Yamamoto his limbs back and the reason to throw his charade out the window.

"NOO!" he roared, canines bared while he ran after the two. Three other werewolves followed him, defiant to the discovery as well. At the moment, Yamamoto didn't care to think who they were—he just wanted to get to the cavern before Kikyo and Zakuro found it first.

"You aren't going to stop them?" Byakuran insisted, his eyes now appearing to slightly glare at the man across from him. Xanxus made no effort to move, or speak, for that matter. His countering glare, however, was death defying. "My, my. You know what this means, don't you?"

The other werewolves who had remained at the table backed away, afraid of the rising egos between both leaders.

"It means if your fucking lab rat scum touches my trash, I'll have their heads on a plate."

_**-ushishikufufu-**_

"We're getting the hell out of here."

"What—Damnit, Squalo, what makes you think we can? It could already be too late!"

"I don't care who this Byakuran guy is. If he wants to fuck with my clan, he can fuck with _me_ first. You're second-in-command now, bomb brat. If I have to distract these assholes, I will, but _you_ have to get the others away from here."

Gokudera was scowling. He had already made a promise to Yamamoto that he wouldn't let the others leave until this Byakuran guy had left, but Squalo wasn't letting him keep that promise easily. In fact, moments ago, Squalo had ordered the others to finish off their second IV bags for more strength. He was _really _planning on escaping while the werewolves were busy entertaining.

"You're insane! Even the Vongola leader was unnerved enough by this Byakuran to reunite you with us! What makes you think you'd survive enough to even buy us time to escape?"

Squalo growled heavily in frustration with the arguments. He was the leader, damnit, he didn't need to have his decisions questioned by someone who hadn't even been _close_ to second-in-command until all the others ahead of him had been wiped out. "Shut up, already! I don't care what that werewolf brat means to you right now, or whatever you said to him. If you don't do it, then your ass can stay behind, and I'll have one of the others lead them to safety."

That was the end of the conversation. And, painfully, as much as Gokudera wanted to keep his promise to Yamamoto, he had to protect the rest of his clan. It was the only way he could live with himself now. So while Squalo clued the others in on his intentions, Gokudera returned to the group, and his silent presence there confirmed his reluctant acceptance.

This was it.

Squalo knew that he was taking advantage of Yamamoto's kindness, as he had freed them all and even supplied them with their feeding supplement, but he couldn't wait any longer. Once the others were prepared, he, along with Gokudera and Spanner, took out the two werewolf guards posted inside the entrance to the cavern with ease. They hadn't been expecting the attack, so they had managed to only knock them out rather than killing them.

The others soon followed. On the top of the stone staircase, Squalo took the moment to take in the faces of his clan—not a single one of them looked afraid. They all wanted freedom, and as it appeared, they would do anything at this point to achieve it. He wasn't about to stand there and breathe false hope into them, because there was a good chance they would all die, but the least he could do was go out for them. After all they've been through, he owed them that much.

"Let's go."

Needless to say, he busted open the door as quietly as one could with their foot, leaping out into the lawn with less speed than he would have had if he had consumed blood on a normal basis rather than three bags in the last two weeks. Gokudera had taken up the rear, making sure all of the others had gotten out before shoving the door back into place.

Unfortunately for Squalo's timing, he'd just given them away.

Squalo had just taken in Zakuro's scent when the crimson haired man had come upon him, watching the vampire curiously and completely forcing himself into the silverette's personal space. He had been too shocked to react, and if it hadn't been for Kyoko and Haru's high pitched screeching, he probably would have been beheaded right there.

Instead, he managed to duck as it took Zakuro a few moments to recover from the sound. A clawed hand drove inches above the vampire's head at a force that could have derailed a mile long train.

Thankfully enough, his distraction was worth something, because the others scattered. They would be less of a target if they stayed in smaller groups, but if Gokudera didn't get it into gear and organize them a way out of the area, then they were going to have problems.

And it was even more of a problem, because Gokudera was the only other vampire left in the clearing, being quickly apprehended by some teal haired freak who tried to rival the length of Squalo's hair. The Varia leader wanted to shout at him, but he had his own distraction to deal with, one that was a lot faster than he was. Squalo soon found himself on the ground with hands tightening around his throat, pulling hard enough for him to see white.

A furry body slammed into Zakuro seconds before he could have successfully ripped Squalo's head from his shoulders. Once again, the pseudo-shark found himself gasping for breaths that he didn't need and staggered to his feet quickly enough to see a wolf about two times the size of a full grown horse barreling towards Kikyo with Zakuro dangling from its jaw.

And it wasn't even a full moon! What the hell was going on?

He caught Yamamoto's scent then, as if his senses had been momentarily turned off while everything around him proceeded in slow motion. Gokudera had been knocked to the ground and that was enough to get him to snap out of it. Squalo flitted over quickly, gripping the bomb lover's arm and heaving him onto his feet. "_Go._"

"N—no, Takeshi!"

Squalo didn't give him the chance to think about it. Still gripping the brat's arm, he almost literally dragged Gokudera out of harm's way and into the fringe of the forest. An agonized howl ripped through the quiet night's air, and that alone brought the younger vampire to yank his arm free. "Takeshi's hurt! I'm going back!"

"Are you stupid? You'll die!" Squalo retorted, attempting to get another grip on Gokudera before he got out of reach, but to no avail.

"So?" Gokudera glared in his leader's direction before sprinting off in the direction they had come from. But Squalo had no time to go back and try to rescue them. Whoever those freakish werewolves were, they were too strong for any of his clan to handle in their current state. He had to focus on regrouping them and leading them on the directed path.

Meanwhile, in the clearing close to the entrance of the cavern, Takeshi was rapidly losing strength. Zakuro had long since freed himself of the iron grip the wolf had gotten on him and, from the looks of it, had nearly broken the boy's jaw in the process. Kikyo had disappeared, leaving the two werewolves—Zakuro in his human form and Takeshi as a full fledged wolf—to battle it out alone. Byakuran had been right, though, his creations _were _special. And deadly.

It looked like Zakuro was attempting to get an easy kill out of Yamamoto, but the young werewolf wasn't giving the redhead the satisfaction. Yamamoto was getting sluggish, though, and while he attempted to lash out a front paw aimed for his opponent's chest, Zakuro dived and jammed his hand right under the boy's ribcage. Yamamoto howled.

"Leave him alone!" Gokudera's voice carried, but he caught the opposing werewolf off guard enough to throw him away from Yamamoto. At the moment, the vampire was faster than Yamamoto had been, but Zakuro was still faster. The red haired man easily jumped back up to his feet, backhanding the silvernette enough to leave four deep gashes on his cheek. Yamamoto howled again, this time out of outrage, bounding over the vampire at Zakuro despite his aching wounds.

"I don't have time to play with children." It was the first time either of the two experiments had spoken and it didn't cease from sending chills. Still, Gokudera couldn't just stand there in awe of a minor wound while Yamamoto fought for him. He launched himself at Zakuro when the redhead threw Yamamoto into a tree. The man caught the silvernette by the throat in midair, leaving Gokudera dangling while he struggled helplessly to get free. The sounds of bones breaking close to where the young werewolf fell meant that Yamamoto was too weak to keep his wolf form, so there was no possible way Gokudera could live after this. It was the end.

"Zakuro, kill it later. The leader is escaping."

Gokudera was dropped to the ground without a second thought. Kikyo had returned, holding the head one of the vampires between his filthy, blood stained claws. The silvernette could still see behind blurring eyes after he hit the ground. The teal haired werewolf dropped the head much like Zakuro had dropped Gokudera, and the two of them disappeared into the forest without a sound.

"Ha – Hayato.."

As it was, Gokudera was still in much better shape than Yamamoto was. In his human form, his wounds were easy to make out, and it already pained the vampire to see that the werewolf wasn't even looking at him—he was staring at the head Kikyo had dropped in complete horror.

The silvernette forced himself to his feet. It wasn't Yamamoto's fault that he couldn't protect the vampire who'd died. If anything, it was _his _fault for not keeping his promise about keeping the others from escaping until Byakuran left. When he finally reached the other's position by the trees, he fell to his knees beside him and ghosted a hand over the wound on his stomach. It looked bad.

Takeshi finally locked eyes with him. "Hayato…!"

"Shh, don't you dare say anything," Gokudera snapped hoarsely, reaching down to grab at Yamamoto's wrist and attempt to haul the arm attached over his own shoulders. "Do you think you can stand, Takeshi?"

Yamamoto didn't know if he could, but that didn't stop him from trying. About halfway up, though, he cringed and went limp, bringing the weakened vampire down on top of him when he fell. Damn, werewolves were heavy, and Yamamoto needed help!

"Hayato… go help the others. And if you see… those guys, then you run," Takeshi murmured, bringing a hand up to inspect the clawed gashes on Gokudera's cheek. Hayato looked at the werewolf as if he'd burned him.

"Like hell I will! I'm not leaving you here. You're either coming with me or I'm staying here with you." The silvernette wasn't going to budge on this. He found the hand pressed against the one searching over his cheek and held it tightly in his own.

"Hayato.."

"Herbivores should stay where they are."

Shocked, as neither the vampire nor werewolf had detected the scent of someone approaching, Yamamoto and Gokudera quickly glanced up. Two men stood several yards away on the opposite side of the clearing. The moonlight illuminated them enough to tell that the blunet with the ebony who had spoken to them looked to have already picked up Kikyo and Zakuro's scents.

"This way, Kyouya."


End file.
